Page 21 of Emerald Vices

Well, let’s see: I’m having a crime lord’s babies, I’m basically his hostage for all intents and purposes, and I may or may not have shot him accidentally-on-purpose…

Oh, and there’s that other small, unimportant detail…

I might just be head over heels in love with the guy.

“There’s a lot going on in my life right now,” I admit. “I’m just… coming to terms with it all.”

He nods and clears his throat. “I think it might be a good idea if you were to take some time off. It might give you the chance to get your head on straight.”

It’s a nice suggestion. So why does the thought of taking a sabbatical fill me with such dread?

Because then you’ll be all alone with your thoughts. Duh.

“No,” I insist. “I need to work.”

He doesn’t push, but the crease is back between his eyebrows. “Why don’t you finish that glass of water and go home early then? Get some rest.”

This time, it’s not a suggestion.

With a reluctant nod of thanks, I head back to my desk, dreading the idea of going back to Kat’s apartment. I know I’m the one who chose to live there, but that doesn’t ease the loneliness clawing at my chest.

The loneliness only one person can ease.

My phone pings with an incoming message, and if his name flashing on my lockscreen is a sign from the universe, I choose to ignore it.

ANDREY: Come over for dinner tonight. We can talk.

Only Andrey can turn what should be a romantic question into a command. What’s even more annoying? It’s actually a turn-on.

Things are simple when I let him make decisions. He’s fearless. He doesn’t question or second-guess. He just does.

What a way to live that must be.

But if I want to be in charge of my own life, my child’s life, I can’t succumb to that easy temptation of letting Andrey control me. I have to stand up for myself. For both of us.

Even if a part of me wants to be ordered around.

NATALIA: I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. But I will come over to get Remi.

ANDREY: Dinner will be on the table either way. It’ll give you a chance to spend some time with Misha. Or should I tell him you’re busy?

Apparently, I won’t let him order me around. But I will let him manipulate me.

Damn him.

NATALIA: No, I’ll make the time.

ANDREY: I’ll let him know.

The “checkmate” is very much implied.

Okay, I’ll admit it: since Andrey was the one who issued the dinner invitation and suggested we “talk,” I kind of expected him to actually show up for dinner.

Instead, it’s Misha and me side-by-side at one corner of the sprawling dinner table, suffering in the thickest of silences.

It was clear the moment I arrived that Misha wasn’t in the best mood. He’s claimed it has to do with a lot of different things—his concussion, physical therapy, tutoring lessons—but stops just short of saying, “Actually, this is all your fault, Natalia.”

He doesn’t need to say it. I already know.

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